Mercenary
by cellophane prince
Summary: Lawrence ain't no saint.


Vyse reached into his pocket.

"How much would it cost?" he had asked.

"That ain't exactly how it works."

"It must be. That's why you're here."

Lawrence's feet were on the table. Crescent Isle bathed in the red shadows of the fiery moon.

"This ain't Nasrad, Captain."

"I _did_ find you on Sailor's Island."

"That's no excuse."

Vyse's fingers drummed the table. The two sat at opposite ends, and the door was locked. The dim light that rose outside from the tiny village of fighters and shiphands flickered off, signaling the end of the night. Vyse slowly fingered a glass of loqua that sat before him; Lawrence's remained untouched. His hair was draped blackly across his face and a dry, cracked feeling hid behind his lips as he smirked.

"Looks like the redhead wasn't enough for ya, s'that right?" Lawrence asked in his husky voice.

Two girls shared a bed in the room next to the captain's last night; the captain had heard it.

"She's more than enough," Vyse said after a pause.

"So what's your problem, then?"

Vyse let out a chuckle. "Well if you're not going to let me pay you for your _services_, I wouldn't think you'd allow any _therapy sessions_ either."

"What's the difference? You know, Captain, this is so unlike you."

"Aw, Lawrence, you know I don't like it when you call me that. It makes me feel like I'm not doing my job well enough."

"Somehow I think you don't really mind." Lawrence's arms were crossed coolly. Vyse leaned in, his fingers drumming on the table. They gazed at each other pensively. "And frankly, I'm finding this a little too amusing. I can see it now..." Lawrence raised his arm to the ceiling, his hand floating across an imaginary depiction of letters. "...'The King of Rogues caught in a scandalous exposé; hear the details behind an evening with his swashbuckling shipmate whore."

"Come on now, that's just distasteful."

A laugh.

"This isn't funny."

"Oh, I don't know, because it's starting to look like you're already off your rocker."

Vyse sipped his drink. His eyeglass patch lay somewhere on the floor.

"I have a question I'd been meaning to ask you, Lawrence."

"And I have an answer. Let's see if they match."

Vyse's mouth slanted crookedly into a grin. "What's your _story_ anyway, huh? After all this time -- after all we've _been through_ as a crew, as a _team_ -- your egg's the only one anybody has yet to crack. Where did you come from?"

"I wasn't paid to talk to ya, Captain."

"I figured you'd say that, but somehow I don't think you're as much into contractual obligations as you'd like us all to think. Hell, we got Don on board to man the helm soon after we got you. You know if you wanted to, you could have split a long time ago."

Lawrence stopped smiling. Vyse went on. "And you know, since so much has happened since we picked you up for a few extra thousand gold, I gotta wonder what goes on in your head sometimes when you're at the wheel. You know we have to trust you a whole lot when you're controlling that thing. We've all seen the look in your eyes. We've talked about it, even. We knew there was something more to you than...well, monetary compensation. You weren't in it just for that."

The mercenary paused, absorbing the commentary he hadn't expected.

"So what is it then, huh? What brought you up here to the meeting room?" Another sip. "Your contract didn't really come with a time limit. It isn't like you're required to stay. Are you here for the adventures, too? Are you just curious?"

Lawrence's fingers slowly extended and retracted from his fist as he sat for a second, thoughtfully. He cleared his throat.

"For one thing, I only drink yellow rock."

---

"You're late."

He stood in the doorway of a room reflecting steel gray. The state of the ship was old, but kept. Lawrence grinned.

"Well Piastol, I didn't exactly think of you as a dire enforcer of consequences. I didn't worry about the time."

She laughed softly. "Oh, you're a funny bastard." Scantily clad, she stood up from the chair in which she had been resting and waltzed across the room. Their noses brushed, and she stopped.

The _Angel of Death _was anchored on a rock in Mid Sky, floating a few leagues west of Sailor's Island. Piastol had hidden the small ship in a thick, low-drifting cloud, despite the rumors of a fog-spewing arcwhale that had been spreading across the port towns in the past few weeks. She would merely reply to Lawrence's concerns by saying that if the people of the towns anticipated her entrance into a pub with as much fear as they related in these stories, she had nothing to be afraid of herself.

She feared only her own weaknesses.

"Come on, puppy," she called behind her shoulder. A small green hound perked up from the corner of the room. Standing up, he shook the sleepiness from his body and trotted toward the doorway. The bounty hunter and the mercenary shared a glance into each other's eyes, before following the small critter into the cloud.

---

Vyse's chin pointed toward the untouched glass of loqua. "Sorry, man. Yafutoma's all I have."

The lightbulb hanging from the ceiling above flickered as the two studied one another. The deep purple hue of his fitted coat played dazzlingly against his eyes. He took a deep breath in through his nose, before exhaling his words.

"I have a lot of scars, Captain. Some are from battles, some from bottles. Some of them, from something else."

Vyse's ears perked attentively as he nodded.

"And I wasn't always a travelin' helmsman. For a while I was just travelin'."

"Just like anyone else, right?"

Lawrence smirked. "Y'know, I started out just like anybody else, Captain. All starry-eyed and adventurous like you. But I can't say it wasn't hard, growin' up in Lower City."

The hairs on Vyse's neck stood as he remembered the poverty he had seen in Valua mere months before, and as he thought of where the last Rains of Destruction fell upon the planet.

"But I did what I could to make a name for myself. I was willing to do anything to get out of that place. I sold what I had, and most of the time, all I had was my own self. When I was little, it meant eatin' worms for shillings."

Vyse frowned; he lost eye contact with his guest and began observing the floor.

"And when I was older...well, let's just say your offer was nothin' strange to me. Nothin' I hadn't heard before." Lawrence flicked his ankle. "Whether _you_ were serious or not."

The outside was deathly quiet, save for the occasional caw of an insect or a bird the fluttered about the trees. The two sitting inside the meeting room had nearly forgotten the presence of the silent Tikatika at his post on the lookout deck outside, but remembered well enough to keep their voice levels at a minimum. The blinds had been closed, save for a small crack exposed at the bottom of the window to spot anyone else who came up.

"But..." he went on. "...at the same time I was never the forgiving type. If they didn't have the means to compensate for my services, I dealt them the consequences instead."

Vyse stirred slightly. Lawrence's lips curled as he nodded darkly.

"I mean, usually, when somebody takes it upon themself to get a job..." He shrugged slightly. "...doin' the dirty deeds of the people who got the incentives, it means the employee's got a fair share of experience doing dirty things for free." He leaned back further in his seat. "You can take that as you will."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" Vyse asked quietly.

Lawrence went on calmly. "I figured after all the shit I'd seen, why not get myself employed doing those same things? It's like they say. If you're good at something, never do it for free."

---

Fina knelt against the door inside her living quarter as she peeked through the small glass hole that Hans had generously offered to install for her.

"A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to be surprised by whoever comes knocking at your door," he had said to her with a charismatic smile. "You should be able to anticipate whoever is there. I don't want any funny business happening to you, not while I'm around."

Fina's eyes widened with concern as she opened to door to find a certain red-headed girl, standing with one arm rubbing the other that hung limply at her side.

"Aika?" The Silvite stepped aside to let her friend in. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

The tears that had been welling up in Aika's eyes slid down her cheeks as she blinked, staring at the ceiling. Fina closed the door behind them.

"Oh, Fina, I just don't know what to do about it any more. I don't know how I can help him."

Fina ran her fingers through her own hair as she analyzed the situation. She reached with her other hand to pull the rogue down onto her bed, to sit.

"What do you mean? Is it Vyse?"

Aika nodded. "He just--oh, I don't know, Fina. First he's been taking the Delphinus out by himself for days at a time, and whenever he'd come and see me in my room at night he's drunk off loqua..." She sniffled, and buried her head in her hands. "He's been acting so strange lately, and I--"

Fina began rubbing her back, unsure of how else to comfort her. "Is he...mistreating you?"

Aika shook her head, still hidden in her palms. "No, but...but it's like all of a sudden he's on this crazy _jealousy_ trip, you know? Ever since we started...you know..."

Fina nodded, transfixed with concern.

"Like he'll come to see me, and I'll be real nice to him and like...and he'll start asking me all these uncalled-for questions, you know? Like who I'd spent my day with, who I've been talking to and why..." She let out a short laugh. "Which is real rich coming from _him_; like I see _him_ at all during the day. He's the one who just..." She waved her arms frustratedly. "...ups and disappears out of nowhere."

They sat silently for a second, staring at the wooden floor carpentered Yafutoman style, just as the girls wanted it.

"Oh...but forget it, though." Aika wiped her nose with a glove. "I'm just blubbering now, I'm sorry to dump all this on you again, Fina. It's just you're kind of the only one I can talk to around here, you know? It's the kind of stupid shit I need my best friends for."

"Oh, no, no! I don't mind it at all, I've told you. It makes me feel good that you can tell me these things that are so personal."

Aika shrugged. Rubbing her forearm against her eye, she gazed over to the flowing headpiece that lay on the bedstand.

"Hey, you know, even though I really dig the bandanna look we gave you, if I do say so myself..." Face still raw, she smiled. "You look so pretty with your hair loose, Fina. I mean it. You do."

Fina blushed, and slowly began to smile. "Th-thank you, Aika." Pausing hesitantly at first, her fingers made a swishing sound against Aika's hair as she reached up to untie the ribbons that held the redhead's hair in tight pigtails.

Vyse moved away from the other side of the door and wandered into his quarter.

---

"I found people who shared interests similar to mine," Lawrence said. "People who did what we had to do to make a business for ourselves. Be they merely different methods."

"And that was what led to Sailor's Island, where we found you."

"You had money."

"I wasn't the only one."

"You weren't the first, either."

Vyse stopped. His loqua glass vibrated from the sensation of his fingers leaving it, wavering before himself hesitantly.

"Really? We weren't the--"

Lawrence picked at his fingers. "Well well, guess Captain Vyse was right. Maybe I did pick my employer. Maybe it _was_ a little more than money that brought me aboard to your humble abode." A shrug. "Who knew?"

Vyse was quiet; his glass empty.

"You know, in spite of your naïvety--or hell, maybe even because of it--you are quite the charismatic guy, you know. King of Rogues, eh?" He stretched his arms out above himself and rested them behind his head. "And it wasn't like you weren't famous, either. If you look at it one way, I wasn't about to miss the opportunity to add your employer status to my resumé."

"And if I look at it another way?"

A smile. "If you look at it another way, it's possible I just thought you were cute."

---

"I hate him," Piastol said quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed. Despite the uncleanliness of much of the rest of the small ship, the bedsheets were immaculate. Her hawked pigtails vibrated as she moved her head. "He was the one who made me do this. This is all because of him."

He leaned against the wall, solemnly gazing at her hunched form. "Little ol' Vyse of the Blue Rogues, huh? S'funny. Not even eighteen and it sounds like he's been comin' up around the towns lately. Left his daddy's nest. On a quest for a girl."

She stared at the floor, frowning. "Where the hell do you hear this shit anyway, Lawrence? Hangin' around the pubs? Where is he located now?"

He cleared his throat. "Well there's no way in telling that, but I know for one thing he's been checkin' out the guilds, making a penny or two off discoveries. Send him a black spot and there's no way he won't get it."

"That bastard had better not be taking out my bounties, too."

The soft light of the midday fog cast a glow on the floor; a small window was open halfway to let in the wild breeze Piastol loved so much.

"Don't take him out, please," she asked suddenly. "Whatever you do. I want him to squeal in front of me. He's mine."

He moved slowly toward the center of the room, arms crossed, facing away. "From now on there'll be no risk of that. I didn't tell you? I'm quitting the mercenary business, anyway."

"Is that so?"

She rose to her feet and stood before him, inches apart.

"It's just--funny. I'm not sure what else you're really _good_ at."

His finger ran along the scar punctuating her face.

"I decided it would be best for me to lie low on the swordslingin'. It seems I've been gaining a reputation lately. But luckily it seems I've had my fair share experience flying ships, so for the time being that's what I've decided to do."

She chuckled. "That's a bit petty, Lawrence. If I didn't know you better I'd say it was genius."

As their faces gravitated toward each other, they curved away more minutely.

"Lawrence the Lone Wolf," the Angel of Death said softly into his ear. "I'd say it suits you nicely."

---

"You haven't told me anything I couldn't have already guessed."

Lawrence shrugged. "Maybe not. But like I said, it ain't my job to explain anything to you."

"Well," Vyse said, rising to his feet and stretching. "That may be true. But..." He rubbed his belly. "...I don't want to get out of here until I've gotten what I wanted out of you."

Lawrence planted his feet in the ground as he sat in his chair.

"Well, _Captain_."

A drunken smile slanted Vyse's face as he leaned against the table next to Lawrence's leg.

"So what'll it be then?"

His gloved fingers rubbed deeply into the helmsman's thigh.

"You're really gonna make that leap, aren't ya." Lawrence grabbed Vyse's chin swiftly. Their eyes locked. "You the kissin' type, too?"

Vyse moved in deeper. "I don't have anything to lose."

Lawrence laughed unflinchingly.

"You worried about your own _morality_, kid? Right _now_?"

They both stood upright against each other. Lawrence's back leaned farther onto the table.

"What've you got to say about morality then, huh?"

They twitched.

"I know a thing or two about sin. And this..."

Lawrence's back was on the table.

"...it's about as sinful as eating brownies on a bed."

Vyse's mouth pressed hard against Lawrence's ear. He felt the loqua on his breath.

"Good."

Their jackets littered the floor now. Buttons popped. Coins jingled; the two knew who they were for.

"......"

He grabbed, and he pressed. The door was still locked. Grins of concentration flashed ever-presently as Lawrence's eyes rolled toward the wooden ceiling. Vyse spoke through his teeth.

"The most natural thing in the goddamn world."

The red moon sank slowly into the horizon, purpled by the glowing rays of the sun etching itself back into the Arcadian clouds. Purple sails pulled away a ship, camouflaged against the early hours of the budding sky, as somewhere in the distance an angel lay brooding; missing, silently, the man who matched her heart perfectly, who lived his life afloat upon the incentives of other beings and who chose its harrowed pathways as they came. She knew who he was. She hated him and loved him, and she knew why. She missed the man who sold his soul to the highest bidder.

She missed the mercenary.


End file.
